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Sonya Petrova
Sonya Petrova is a character on Plagued. She was created by Petrova on December 29th, 2010. Personality As a human, tied down and restricted to a monotonous schedule of chores, ballet, and life in a suburb, Sonya just wanted to have a little fun. She wanted her freedom, and a chance to experience the world she lived in. The Apocalypse -- and Satan -- gave her that chance. Sonya is all about the hunt, the pursuit; she kills when she must, whether it be to satisfy her own twisted hunger or that of her commanding Overmind. Life as a Reaver has treated her well thus far, and she has swallowed its essence all the way down to her core. The excruciating need for more is always there, a craving that she does not completely understand or want to deny. Control is a dominating factor in Sun's personality; she will always want to be the woman sleeping beside the man with control, or be the one with its power herself. She likes being around strong personalities, but will not diffuse her own stubbornness in exchange for their acceptance. There is always room for another hotheaded maniac in the bunch. History When you are given a weapon, and then told not to use it, how does that make you feel? I'll tell you how it makes me feel: enraged. Pleasure, relief, entertainment, darkness... all of these things are mine because I have earned them. I made my deal, paid my due. My parents once gave me a whistle when I was very little, but when I blew it, told me to stop being so loud. I got a boyfriend in the seventh grade named Tommy, and even though I wanted too, society, my parents, and my Health teacher told me not to have sex with him. And when I had spine surgery at the age of 18 to replace a disk that slipped at birth, I was given pills, and told not to really take them. For emergencies they said. When I was human, there had been a sliver of heart trapped inside my chest that felt and needed. It took a while for my thoughts to become more sinister, but once I began realizing that every feeling of rejection and denial I'd been having through my lifetime was tied to my family, they developed. As a teen, I began imagining how I would remove the people in my life closest to me. My first fantasy materialized out of a very detailed, memorable dream of crowbars and blood-stained sheeting. It scared me at first, the idea of expelling the violence inside of me in such a bad, bad way. But I never forgot the dream. I would look around at my mom, dad, my little brother all sitting at the breakfast table on a Sunday morning readying themselves for mass and feel my muscles twitching to do something. Anything. The second time a dream came to me, the painted image was even darker, and left me with the taste of slick copper on my lips when I awoke in the dead of an October night. A chilly wind crept up through the floorboards and in around the ancient insulation of my window panes, driving me from my bed. As my feet padded past each of their doors, the smells and details of the murderers I dreamed of committing began replacing my real sight. I could see nothing but red and the wide, baby blue eyes of my youngest brother, smell nothing but my fathers charming aftershave. I was an animal, not a twenty year old woman still staying in her folks' home. That night, sparked by the sliver of humanity still left inside my soul, I flung myself out of my three-story bedroom window. But as I felt myself being penetrated by the jagged rocks of our Boston home's shoreline, I felt something reach into my mind and touch me. I could feel his cool breath as he filled every vein in my body, and took complete control over my dying thoughts. He told me that the hope I'd felt was dead, well dying anyway, and that it never belonged in my soul to begin with. Satan told me that if I gave him my soul that I could shed my humanity, and be rid of my weak body forever. I screamed my answer into the night before his words were solidified in my brain. Awake. The cold no longer effected my thick skin, and my eyes had adapted into something inhuman and wonderful. I gripped dozens of pebbles underneath my palms, feeling each one, and something growled in my chest. I was me again. The walk from the sandy shore to the third floor of my old house was by far the most pleasurable experience of my life as a Reaver. Feeling their blood dried beneath my fingernails days later gave me a sense of purpose. As the Apocalypse was dropped onto the world, the tally of deaths I created on my trek around the northeast became just another grim statistic. Category:Characters Category:Reavers Category:Females Category:Inactive